Day turned to night when they entered the line of young conifers. Occasional streams of sunlight broke through the trees, revealing a ground covered in reddish-brown pine straw with very little underbrush. Clean rows of trees appeared on either side. Their trunks lined up, creating illusions of infinitely long corridors.
Nothing in nature was ever that perfect, and Xandor suspected that at some point, the Kral had instituted a reforestation program.
Just beyond the entrance to the forest, Xandor dismounted and knelt to inspect the ground. To anyone else, the road was a series of random ruts, but to Xandor, the road told a detailed story. He confirmed the number of wagons that had recently passed, as well as the number of horsemen, even picking out the Shire’s hoofprints from the mix.
Using the Shire’s deep impressions in the ground as a simple guide, Xandor could easily tell the beast had passed twice, the first time at a fairly sedate pace and again, later, at a rapid gait. Following the twin trails, he quickly found where the albino exited the road to double back. Opposite, he found another set of prints leaving the road—those of the knight’s horse. Smiling grimly to himself, the ranger memorized the tiny features that made each animal’s prints unique.
* * *
Xerxes walked down the East Road slowly enough to let Xandor keep an eye on the hoofprints of the knight and his companion. After a while, the ranger retrieved his map and studied the next few intersections and forks. A thin red line marked the proposed path of the caravan.
They passed a lone wagon heading west when the knight’s trail simply disappeared. Xandor immediately directed Xerxes to one side of the road. The ranger dismounted and guided them farther into the trees.
“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”
Chert and Xerxes both instinctively nodded, each giving the other a sidelong look.
* * *
Xandor crept closer to the crossroads, blending with the trees along the south side of the road. He pulled out his spyglass. Even with the low light under the canopy, the ranger had no problem seeing the intersection, approximately a hundred yards away.
Based upon his notations, the caravan should have traveled straight across. The two riders should have done the same, but he had another one of those nagging sensations that told him to stay hidden. He couldn’t explain it, but it had kept him alive on more than one occasion.
Xandor panned his spyglass across the northwest quadrant of the intersection, scrutinizing every deadfall, bush, and tree. Nothing. He took a second to blink the dryness out of his eye, then turned to the next area. As he panned across, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Tightening his focus, he found them.
At first, the ranger couldn’t tell if the two men had spotted him, but by the casual way the knight sat his Frisian, it appeared they hadn’t. Xandor glanced over to the albino and silently put in a prayer their scent mask would work. He put the spyglass away and looked around. Xandor thought a moment and then decided on a course of action.
He eased back to Chert and Xerxes and led them through the trees, away from the crossroads. Xandor started to veer far to the south in hopes of passing the knight and his companion, but when he came within sight of the intersecting road, he stopped.
Again signaling for Xerxes and Chert to wait, he snuck back toward the intersection, laid down in the pine straw, took out his spyglass, and looked for the two riders. The knight and his bodyguard were still there.
Were they still hoping to catch someone following the caravan? Even to Xandor, who had ridden with some paranoid people, it seemed a little excessive. Then a thought nagged at him. Were they waiting for someone? He decided to wait and watch.
After a few minutes, a large, bright white light illuminated the northern road—a magical portal. Out of it appeared two newcomers. They rode short, chestnut-colored horses that bordered on being ponies. Xandor focused his spyglass and smiled grimly. I knew we would meet again.
The riders had manes of wild, red hair and sported thick mustaches and beards. Though the two did not appear to be twins, they were definitely related—cousins, maybe even brothers. Xandor zoomed in on the two men and noticed swirling tattoos covered every inch of their exposed skin, one a mirror of the other. They each wore chain armor over plain, leather jerkins and carried two broad, short swords with slightly curved blades. Sticking prominently out from the saddlebags was an unstrung longbow and a quiver of large arrows.
When one of the two men from the north approached the knight and started a conversation, Xandor decided it was time to leave.
A half hour later, Xandor was still riding low in the saddle, dodging low-hanging branches, and navigating Xerxes away from any visible hazards. Chert jogged behind him, easily keeping pace.
Finally, the ranger steered his horse toward the East Road, hoping they had gotten ahead of the knight and his men. Once there, he called a halt and checked for signs of passage. Xandor quickly found the trail of the caravan; there were no signs of the albino’s horse.
With a little pressure from the ranger’s knees, Xerxes moved down the road at a steady trot. All three of them kept their ears alert for sounds both ahead and behind.
They had traveled for several minutes when Xandor and Chert heard the loud jangling of harnesses and hoofbeats moving toward them. Not wanting to take a chance, the ranger guided Xerxes off the road, Chert following. A patrol of ten regulars mounted on rounceys and holding long spears appeared around a bend in the road. Xandor thought quickly, stepped out onto the road, and waved his right hand to get their attention.
The armored men quickly surrounded him.
“Captain, I am a ranger in the service of the Kral, and I need your assistance!” Xandor shouted.
The commander urged his horse forward and said in a threatening tone, “Identify yourself, stranger.”
Xandor slowly reached into his pouch and pulled out his paperwork. The commander quickly read it. His expression changed instantly, and when he finished, he handed back the paper and snapped a perfectly-executed salute.
The ranger returned the salute and said, “Smugglers are using this road. I need a full accounting of everyone who passes this point for the next twelve hours.
“I am assigning this task to you, Captain, and your men,” Xandor said smartly. “This means anyone traveling this road must be stopped and searched thoroughly, regardless of station. In addition, we suspect foreigners may be involved. If they resist in the slightest, have them arrested immediately. Commander, I will continue ahead and alert the remaining patrols on this road. I recommend you send a runner to the garrison for backup.”
“Yes, sir.” The commander snapped another salute.
Xandor returned the salute and went to retrieve Xerxes. The dwarf was nowhere to be seen, but since the horse didn’t seem to be agitated, Xandor let it go. He mounted and rode off, the commander’s orders to his men ringing in his ears.
Once he was out of eyesight, he risked a large smile.
“That was cute, with all the saluting and stuff. Do you think it will slow down that knight?” Chert said when he appeared beside a moss-covered, rocky outcropping.
Xerxes shied away until he recognized the dwarf. Xandor steadied his horse and said, “I don’t know if it will slow them down or not, but I hope so.” Then he stared down the road and said, “Let’s catch that caravan.”
* * *
The caravan had traveled without mishap and stopped at a campsite along the south end of a small lake. After the horses were unhitched and fed, there was a mad rush as the horsemen ran to the edge of the lake with freshly-cut cane poles. Jasper’s original plan had been to grill pork chops, but after getting a good view of the lake, he opted on panfish for supper. No one argued.
Jasper was alone, busily preparing the fire and the side dishes. Sachin had disappeared into his tent, so Grendel left his post and walked over to the cook.
“How do you like your fish?” Jasper asked as he prepared the salad and grilled some potatoes.
> “Do you think those two strangers we ran into yesterday will show up tonight?”
“I don’t know,” Jasper replied. He stopped what he was doing for a moment, looked around, and said, “Everybody here is wondering the same thing.”
“That albino did not like you,” Grendel said.
“Yeah, I get that sometimes,” Jasper said.
Pyotr overheard them talking and approached. “He’s right, you know. I wouldn’t want to be you the next time he shows up.”
Suddenly, Lucky screamed like a little girl, “I caught one! I caught one!” Everyone started laughing. The young man ran up to Jasper, his fish still wiggling on the line.
“That’s great, Lucky, but you’re supposed to take the fish off the hook first. Now, go clean it.”
Lucky’s face went from a look of triumph to one of utter defeat. “Ugh, that’s gross. Can’t you do it?”
Jasper laughed and said, “No way. I’m in charge of cooking them, not cleaning them.”
Pyotr grinned broadly and said, “Come on, you big baby.” The two walked back toward the lake, where Viktor had set up a small cleaning stand.
Jasper motioned for Grendel to come closer. When he did, the cook whispered, “I have guard duty tonight after midnight. Let’s talk then.”
Grendel nodded without saying anything and walked back to his post.
Jasper looked up as some of the laughter got louder. He heard Yosif say, “I don’t know why they call it cleaning. This is disgusting!”
* * *
After placing another log on the fire, Jasper patrolled the sleeping camp. Snores and sounds of heavy breathing accompanied the gentle forest noises. Jasper completed his circuit and headed toward the lake, accepting Grendel’s nod as he passed the half-orc. Finding a log near shore, he sat and rested his feet.
It was only a couple days until the new moon. The wind had subsided, so the surface was as smooth as glass and reflected the faint moonlight like a mirror. The stars hung low in the sky and silhouetted the mountain peaks. The cook stared at the lake and noted how the surface captured the bright intensity of the stars above. He was not one for staying up late; however, it was pleasantly cool and it gave him an opportunity to enjoy the gentle forest noises.
Grendel quietly coughed to get the mage’s attention. Jasper glanced up and beckoned for the tall half-orc to join him. Grendel cast a last quick glance toward Sachin’s tent. Everything was dark, but he suspected Sachin was still awake.
The two watched the surface of the lake and listened to the nightly sounds. Without turning his head, Jasper asked, “Everything all right?”
“Yeah. This trip is not what I expected.”
“Me, either. It seems the more you run from your past, the faster it follows you.”
Grendel gave the mage a quizzical look when he realized Jasper was not just talking about himself.
Jasper turned, caught Grendel’s expression, and asked, “How are things between you and Sachin?”
“Good.”
Jasper thought a moment and said quietly, “I can’t figure that man out.”
With a small warning gesture, Grendel motioned to the tent. Jasper nodded and resumed staring at the lake.
“Why did you provoke that creature at the tavern?” Grendel asked. “That thing would have crushed you if the knight hadn’t stopped him.”
“Don’t talk to me about provoking someone. Didn’t you put yourself between him and Sachin?” Jasper asked with a smile.
“That is my job,” Grendel said, his tone serious.
The mage shrugged.
“Jasper, I do not know what history you have with this creature, but do not let it cloud your vision.”
“Look, I rolled the dice and won yesterday. Tomorrow, I’ll roll those same dice again and lose.”
“Those are words of luck, not skill. Luck you did not start a fight in the bar and luck you didn’t get attacked last night while you slept.”
“You could’ve taken him.”
Grendel shook his head. “The fight would not have been necessary.”
“No, maybe not.”
Grendel grunted and said, “Just don’t gamble with other people’s lives, especially mine. If yesterday had gone differently, there would have been a lot of collateral damage. People might have died.”
Jasper’s eyebrows shot up, and it took him a second to form words. “You sound very much like an old friend of mine.”
“Did he give you the same advice?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
They sat in silence for a little while longer. Jasper picked up a small pebble and threw it into the water. It landed with a soft plunk and sent ripples out in all directions.
“I think that creature was a Seldaehne,” Jasper said.
When Grendel gave him a questioning look, Jasper recounted what he had told Dragahn.
After he finished, Grendel asked, “Does anybody else know about this?”
“Just Dragahn. No one else,” Jasper said.
Grendel exhaled loudly and whispered, “We need to tell them.”
“I know, but I haven’t seen them since before we entered town yesterday,” Jasper whispered back.
“Do you think they ran into that knight and the Seldaehne?”
“I don’t know.”
They both turned when they heard rustling near camp.
Pyotr appeared and asked, “Can I join you?”
Looking up at the stars, Jasper gauged their movement and said, “Sure, but you still have a half hour or so before I’m supposed to wake you.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Grendel excused himself and walked back to Sachin’s tent.
Pyotr found a spot next to Jasper and sat down. “Chief told me about the history between you and the knight’s companion, and I couldn’t help but overhear what you told Sachin’s bodyguard. Do you think there will be trouble?”
Jasper didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t help thinking he should’ve placed a damned announcement in the paper. Old friends. Jasper reached into his pouch, took out a copper lev, and threw it into the water. That one was for you, Robert.
Pyotr watched the play of emotions but didn’t say anything.
Studying the sky, Jasper said, “It’s gonna be a nice day tomorrow.”
The horse doctor glanced up at the stars and replied, “Yeah, I think so, too.”
After a while, Jasper stood and brushed off his pants. “I’m gonna grab some sleep before Dragahn wakes me for breakfast.”
Jasper had just started back when Pyotr said, “Dragahn made the right decision.”
The mage stopped, looked down at the horse doctor, and said softly, “Let’s hope so.”
* * * * *
Marko’s Escape (October 20)
Hunkered down in a small grassy area behind a fallen tree, Xandor watched Jasper and Grendel across the mirror-like surface of the lake. Behind him, an unsaddled Xerxes grazed next to their cold campsite. Taking out his stylus, the ranger wrote several entries in his journal.
“Doesn’t that thing ever get full?” Chert asked.
Xandor closed his journal. “How long have you known Grendel?” His eyes still focused on the far side of the lake.
“Seems like forever. Why?”
“Really. How long have you known him?”
“Just over two years now.”
“Can we depend on him?”
“What do you mean?”
Xandor turned from the lake and faced Chert. “Before meeting you two, I’d never worked with a half-orc before. Is he really trustworthy?”
“You know, I asked myself that same question when Grendel and I first met. Being a dwarf, you have to know I disliked him from the start,” Chert replied.
“What changed?”
“Good question. We were both looking for work. Grendel was fresh off a ship from a place called J’Bel, and I had just left my home and my clan.”
Chert paused when he heard something plop in th
e water. When nothing else stirred the night air, he continued, “We were both hired as bodyguards for an elderly druid named Garan. He was traveling to one of their holy sites, where he would compete for the honor of being the Grand Druid. I thought it strange at the time he hired both of us without asking us any questions about our past. Thinking back, I realize now he didn’t care. He saw something in us. A potential, if you will. One that went beyond racial prejudices, and he was right. We became good friends—a dwarf and a half-orc. I learned a lot on that trip about myself and about my faith.”
Smiling wistfully, Chert looked at Xandor and said, “Even though he was a druid and worshipped nature, Garan had a strange way of connecting everything together. And you know what was funny?”
“No, what?”
“We traveled for a month through forests and hills with Garan teaching us about animals and nature. When we arrived at their holy site, it turned out to be an enormous circle of ancient stone slabs made of marble. I almost felt at home. I came to trust Grendel during that trip, and he has never done anything to cause me to question that trust.”
“It’s still difficult for me to trust him. I can only imagine what it must have been like for you,” Xandor said, more to himself than to Chert.
Reaching over and patting the ranger on the back, Chert said, “Have faith, my friend. If a stubborn dwarf can overcome racial hatreds, then I believe there is hope for you yet.”
Chert stepped away from the ranger and retrieved a thick, leather-bound book from his pack. A dark colored ribbon looped from the binding marked his place. He found a comfortable spot, sat down, and began reading.
After a minute or two of silence, Xandor asked, “Was it necessary?”
Not looking up, Chert mumbled, “Was what necessary?”
“Did Garan really need two bodyguards?”
Chert stopped reading and looked up. “No, I don’t think he did.”
* * *
A chill breeze cut across the lake, cutting through Xandor’s clothes like a knife. “It’s starting to get cold.”
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